


wet soil and green thumbs

by Directionless_Foray



Series: quiet healing [4]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Character Study, Growing Up, M/M, gardening as a metaphor for character growth, this really is more Max centric but it's definitely SORT OF shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Directionless_Foray/pseuds/Directionless_Foray
Summary: One day his sister gets him a little tomato seedling.He presumes it's some sort of strange jokeFor some reason, he keeps it.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Series: quiet healing [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671961
Comments: 30
Kudos: 123





	wet soil and green thumbs

**Author's Note:**

> This was written very quickly and very self-indulgently.

His sister gets really into gardening.

Max, who has seen her bounce enthusiastically from hyper-fixation to hyper-fixation her entire life, just watches on with vague amusement.

She covers every surface in her apartment in tiny glazed posts of succulents and a black plastic trays of fresh herbs takes up residency on the window sill in her kitchen.

Max has accompanied her to countless concerts, knows the lyrics to too many songs sung by nasally floppy-haired boy-band members, so he's just glad that this hobby seems less onerous on her immediate friends and family.

Not to mention, it means Max gets to eat her cooking more often.

Then one day she gets him a little tomato seedling.

He presumes it's some sort of strange joke

For some reason, he keeps it. Finds a sunny window ledge in his apartment and leaves it there.

-

At first he honestly just dumps the little green seedling in its cheap plastic container there.

Leaves it there and waters it when he remembers. Which is to say, not very often.

One weekend Victoria comes to visit and purses her lips. She flicks a strand of long blonde hair and warns Max, "you need to water it twice a day when it's warm, Max, otherwise it's just going to die."

Max flushes and just shrugs. He doesn't know how to tell her that he doesn't know the first thing about gardening.

He doesn't know why he's kept the damn plant much less how to keep it _alive_.

"If you're going to keep it you need to take care of it properly," she continues sternly, "or you're just wasting your time."

Max bites his lip, "_okay_, you don't need to lecture me, it's fine," he stands up and heads into the kitchen to fill a glass with water, "I'll remember to water it."

He wanders over to the little punnet. The seedling is looking a little droopy. He empties some water into the punnet and watches as the soil turns a glossy black.

Some of the water splashes onto the window sill.

He leaves the empty glass on the window ledge and turns to Victoria with a defiant expression.

She's watching him with an unreadable expression but she doesn't say anything further.

-

Max doesn't tell anyone but deep down he thinks he might know why he kept the plant.

Maybe he's sick of being Max the _angry._ Max the _volatile._ Max the _destroyer._

Maybe he wants to be Max the _nurturer._

Max, deserving of _gentle._

Of _growing._

Maybe he doesn't know how exactly to be that yet but-

Maybe he's willing to _try_.

-

It's strangely satisfying, watching the seedling grow.

Max comes home some evenings and when he turns the TV on to unwind, his gaze will wander over to the little plant sitting cheerfully on his window ledge.

He doesn't talk to it, because he's not certifiably _insane_, but its quiet presence is kind of... Nice?

Makes the apartment feel a whole lot less empty.

It gives Max something to worry about that isn't racing or PR or trying to be less of a train wreck of a human being. All he needs to remember is to water the plant and make sure it's in the best position in the apartment for optimal sunshine.

It grows, a small angular leaf appearing overnight, and it feels like some sort of cosmic validation. Tangible evidence of _growing_.

Something Max nurtured with his clumsy hands and kept alive in spite of a lifetime of being told he was only destined for the type of _strong_ that meant fire and yelling and broken things. 

He realises that there's an admirable kind of _strong_ in protecting, nurturing and even in _responsibility_.

It's a shame he doesn't know how to put that feeling into words, so he mostly keeps that to himself.

After dinner he dumps his dishes in the sink and sits down at the dining room table. He turns on his laptop and starts researching how to best care for tomato plants in earnest.

What type of food they need. How many hours of sunlight they require. 

He unashamedly scans the Google search results, looking out for site names and page titles like _gardening for dummies, fool-proof, how to keep your plants alive_ and the like.

He unearths an old notebook, some sort of navy blue, faux leather-bound promotional RedBull crap that someone must have handed him at some point.

He flips it open and starts taking careful notes.

-

Max comes home after a race weekend, dumps his bags in a heap in the hallway, and kicks his shoes off messily.

When he re-emerges from the shower he realises with a start no one has watered the plant while he was away. He frantically digs his half-finished bottle of water out from his backpack in the hallway and hurries over to the window ledge.

The damp towel is still wrapped loosely around his waist.

The seedling looks droopy, to say the least, and Max curses, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. The guilt and shame claws at his throat and Max is startled to find his eyes are burning with unshed tears.

He tips some water into the soil and viciously berates himself.

He checks on the plant frequently over the next few days and silently vows to do better.

From that week on Max makes sure to organise for someone to come and water his plant every race weekend.

He sets up a recurring reminder in the calendar app on his phone for a few days before he's scheduled to leave for the rest of the year's races.

He always makes sure to tell the slightly confused friend or neighbour tasked with watering his plant in his absence to collect his mail as well, but that's only so he doesn't sound like an unstable freak who's overinvested in a tiny little seedling that may not even end up bearing fruit.

-

Victoria swings by during a long weekend. She scolds him for forgetting to book his tickets to visit her when she told him to but stops mid-reprimand to nod approvingly when she spies the plant.

It's almost thirty centimeters tall and boasts three clumps of healthy-looking green leaves.

"You should move it to a bigger pot," she suggests while she inspects some of the leaves. "The roots won't have enough room in the little plastic box."

She has a point, Max has mainly been letting it lean against the window which, in retrospect, is not one of his greater ideas.

She must see the panicked expression on Max's face because she just laughs, "it's okay, _doofus_, there's plenty of time, just do it before it gets too big, and make sure you use the good fertiliser, and also give it a lot of water to begin with. Like _a lot._"

Max nods eagerly, committing all her advice to memory.

She snorts and tells him he should treat her to a nice lunch in return for her help.

Max bites back his retort and goes to grab his wallet and phone. He calls over his shoulder that she can choose where they eat.

He's too busy rooting around a jacket pocket for his keys to see her pleasantly surprised expression.

-

Max returns to Monaco in a huff, still fuming after a shitty race. He feels like nothing will improve his mood. The anger and frustration is addictive so he lets himself strew in it.

The righteous outrage in feeling so utterly _wronged_. It's a satisfying break from the feeling of disappointment.

He dumps his bags and just grabs his phone and earphones to head out for a run. 

Before long he's sweating and puffing.

He feels better. Less in his head. Which is always a vast improvement.

He stops by the really good bakery that's just a little too out of the way for regular visits and buys a loaf of bread covered in roasted sesame seeds.

It's still warm in the paper bag.

It smells amazing. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it until he's hugging the warm loaf in his arms and the sweet earthy smell is wafting into his nostrils.

As he's paying he notices a small selection of hand-painted terracotta pots next to the register. The owner follows his gaze and chuckles, "my daughter painted those," he explains, "she's selling them to raise money for charity."

They're cute. Clearly hand-painted. Some boast little pink and blue flowers and others are covered in bright yellow suns.

The little paintings sit a little too irregularly and off-center to be mass-produced.

Max chooses one of the larger pots. The one with a handful of small smiling suns dotted around the outside.

He's still staring at one of the painted suns when he decides, on a whim, to grab an extra loaf of that crusty bread Daniel used to like. If Max has been missing this bread, maybe Daniel has been too.

Plus, he can drop it off on his way home.

He's already here anyway. It can't hurt. 

He carries the two brown paper bags of bread inside the pot all the way home.

By the time he gets home, it's almost like he can't remember what pissed him off so much to begin with.

Okay, _wishful thinking_. He still remembers why he was furious.

But his run and new acquisitions have taken the sting out of it. He has something else to focus on now.

He opens the cupboard drawers and tries to find an old plate to slide under the pot and keep the dirt from making a mess.

After some digging around, he finds a heavy china plate with a few chips along the edge. 

It's sitting in the innermost corner of the cupboard, Max doesn't think it's been used for years.

It's _perfect_.

Max uses a damp cloth to wipe away the thin layer of dust it's coated in.

As he's wringing out the rag, he takes the chance to admire the plate.

It's oddly beautiful. Faded spidery blue floral design on the white porcelain. The chips even enhance its peculiar beauty in his humble opinion.

It looks like something that has been lovingly used. Something that has survived the passage of time, the abrasions of life, and emerged wiser and stronger. 

No less beautiful.

He's glad he's found another use for it, Max smiles to himself, otherwise, it would probably have remained forgotten in the back of the cupboard.

-

He concludes from his research that he'll need to order some fertiliser.

The websites he's scanned recommend a few brands and Max duly orders the most expensive one online.

After some consideration, he adds a small carton of special tomato plant food to his order.

The package arrives the next day and Max spends an afternoon moving his plant into the larger pot and maneuvering the pot into the best position in the room. He gets dirt on the ground and tangled in his hair but afterward, when he's watering his plant all he feels is _content_.

The pot sits in the corner of his living room. Right next to the couch so Max can keep an eye on it whenever he's just watching television or playing video games.

It's at the perfect angle to catch glimpses off from the kitchen too if he leans over his sink.

He waters the plant seven times over the course of two hours.

Right before he leaves to grab dinner with some friends he ducks into the kitchen to fill up the tiny metal watering can once more.

_Just in case. _

He waters the plant one more time and then uses a rag to wipe up the little splashes of water that have spilled onto the floor.

He checks his watch and he sets the watering can back onto the side table.

-

Kimi nudges him after a press conference. "I heard you're growing tomatoes," he says apropos of nothing.

Max stiffens. He didn't realise his attempt at gardening had gotten around.

Then and again, anything tends to qualify as gossip in these circles.

Kimi is still staring expectantly at him so Max just nods.

"Is it up against a fence or wall?" Kimi asks.

Max shakes his head hesitantly.

He feels like he's having an out of body experience.

He looks over Kimi's shoulder and Daniel just shrugs. His eyes are bright and they're doing that crinkly thing that has caused Max so much grief and,_ if he's being perfectly honest_, continues to do so.

However, he's also not openly laughing at Max despite being fully able to hear their subject of conversation. _Small mercies. _

"You should build a frame for it," Kimi explains patiently. "Otherwise all the tomatoes are going to grow too low and far from the sun."

Max nods and makes a note to google the best way for a total novice to go about building one when he gets home. He doesn't want to come off as a totally inept human being in front of Kimi. 

He can't say he would have expected gardening tips from Kimi but he's not exactly going to look a gift horse in the mouth either.

He makes sure he remembers to thank Kimi for the suggestion.

-

After consulting the internet, Max buys some thin wooden posts and zip ties. He carefully inserts the posts into the soil and uses the zip ties to secure the rapidly growing trusses to the posts.

The plant is flowering now. Little clusters of tiny yellow flowers. Max snaps a photo of them and sends them to his sister. To his mother too.

They send back an excited flurry of emojis and exclamation marks and Max feels warm.

_Proud_.

He deliberates making some sort of stupid Instagram story but he imagines the kinds of responses he'd get would kill the airy joy he's trying to share.

Such are the pitfalls of social media and genuine emotional expression.

He doesn't need to show it off anyway, it's enough that this is for Max and Max alone.

This is Max's achievement.

He goes into the kitchen to wash his hands and make some coffee.

-

He's talking to Daniel on the phone when he gets home. His phone is wedged between his ear and his shoulder while he wrestles with his keys.

They're talking about getting dinner together sometime. Max wracks his brain for a second and suggests the place Daniel mentioned in passing a few weeks ago. Daniel makes a pleased noise over the line.

Max instinctively looks over at his plant and yelps. "-_Let me call you back_," he interrupts Daniel and hangs up.

He rushes over to the window ledge and dials his sister's number.

The phone rings a few times and Max prays nervously that she picks up.

In the meantime, he snatches the little metal watering can off the side table and starts worriedly drizzling water over the plant.

"Max, what's going on? I was-"

"_The flowers are dying_," he hisses, "_fuck_, was it because I pruned those lower trusses too early- shit, I took off too many yellow leaves didn't I- _I told you!_ Some of them were still kind-of green, I'm such an idiot I always-"

His sister laughs and Max frowns, sure they've always teased each other but to openly make fun of distress? That was unusual.

But she laughs for a good few minutes, laughs so hard it sounds like she's choking. "Max, I love you, you _doofus_, I love you but _holy shit_, Max," she takes a second to catch her breath, "the flowers are dying because the _tomatoes_ are coming soon."

Max is stunned into silence.

"_Relax_, you're doing great," she reassures him, he hears some rustling and then the muffled sound of a door clicking shut and her voice gets a little louder, "it's _okay_, you've kept it alive for so long, now you'll get to see the tomatoes soon, it's _good_ news, Max!"

Max takes a deep breath and lets her ramble on about something that happened today at the grocery store. He tries to remember the appropriate places to hum sympathetically and ask follow up questions.

A few hours later he remembers the abrupt way he hung up on Daniel. He mentally facepalms and types a quick text, _sorry about before, thought it was an emergency but it was just me being stupid (+ rude). Sorry!_

A few seconds later his phone buzzes, _no stress! just glad it wasn't anything serious!_

-

True to her words, the little green baby tomatoes start appearing soon after their call.

Max marvels over the tiny polished green orbs as he eats his breakfast. He crunches on the last bite of his buttery toast and considers moving the plant onto the balcony.

He takes his plate and cutlery back into the kitchen. He continues pondering relocating the plant as he washes his dishes.

In the end, he decides to leave it where it is. The risk of some clever birds attacking his precious plant is too high. 

Plus, Max thinks privately, he likes seeing the plant whenever he's sitting on the couch or wandering from room to room. He's gotten used to how his gaze will gravitate towards the plant like it’s his (mostly silent) roommate.

So the plant remains in it's designated corner next to the window and the couch.

-

Daniel swings around to pick up a phone charging chord Max borrowed and forgot to return a few days ago.

He spots the tomato plant and Max watches the way his eyes light up. It makes something flutter tentatively in his stomach.

Then Max flushes. The plant probably looks strange, so awkward and out of place in his apartment. In his depressing _bachelor pad_.

But Max stops that train of thought, straightens his shoulders. _No._

He is proud of his little plant. Though, he supposes, it surpassed _little_ a while ago. It's well and truly _big_ now.

Big and _impressive._

It's vines drip, overflowing with ripe little cherry tomatoes like strings of burnt red rubies.

The trusses heave under the weight of their plentiful inaugural harvest. Max should probably have picked some of the tomatoes to free up some space and relive some of the pressure on the plant.

He realises belatedly that he's sort of forgotten the most important part of the gardening. The fruits of his labour.

Or maybe he didn't.

Maybe it wasn't the most important part after all. A small smile tugs at his lips. 

Max realises that while he's been lost in thought that Daniel has wandered over to the plant.

He crouches down next to it and Max watches as he plucks a red tomato right off the vine and pops it into his mouth.

Max's tongue darts out unconsciously to wet his lip.

The fluttery feeling intensifies. 

-

Daniel makes a cheese and tomato omelette.

It sticks to the bottom of the saucepan.

They end up eating it out of the pan with spoons.

Max laughs harder than he has in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: it's generally considered hard to grow tomatoes indoors but please suspend reality or this please. I beg. 
> 
> Also, I don't normally write Maxiel (idk if this even strictly is Maxiel) but I just couldn't get the idea of Max growing plants as some sort of metaphor for character growth and personal development out of my head. Hence this fic. I'm uncomfortably fond of earnest plant boy Max though. 
> 
> I hope it conveys what I was trying to convey, if it doesn't, at the very least, I hope you enjoy gratuitous gardener!Max with a little splash of Maxiel :)


End file.
